


lips tasting of vodka and winter

by ayselz



Series: jūras princis [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, it's gay latbela y'all, raimonds is really rough with his partners but wbk nikolai makes him soft???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 04:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15987998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayselz/pseuds/ayselz
Summary: "All things which concerned Raimonds were always the extremes. Black and white, hate or want. There was no gray area, no uncertainty."





	lips tasting of vodka and winter

Raimonds never loved Viktor. He wanted, that was a whole different matter, and wanted he truly did. Like chasing a thunderstorm barefoot, braving the winds whipping him harshly on the face and trying to reach the eye, any semblance of satisfaction. Raimonds wanted and he wanted more and he never got satisfied; Viktor gave and took and then gave some more, and it was a wild goose chase which thrilled him to the bones.

All things which concerned Raimonds were always the extremes. Black and white, hate or want. There was no gray area, no uncertainty.

Which was the reason why all trysts with Viktor always ended up in two things—rough sex, or a knife buried into someone’s side.

Tonight, Raimonds had the upper hand. Viktor was exhausted from an exercise, so he’d gotten away easily with only a large purple bruise on his right cheek, and the other was passed out after Raimonds choked and pinned him down on the bed.

 _It was his fault_ , he thought bitterly, _he called me the weaker half of Courland._

Spiteful, angry, honest, full of pride. Raimonds was never Courland. He was Semigallia, glorious and deadly in his own right, the deep pools of his blue eyes flickering with vengeance and retribution and everything ugly in the world, only painted in the cerulean of the Baltic. Courland, softer and warmer but strong nonetheless, was his sister.

(And it was something he would never tell Raina to her face, but she was weaker than him. Always, always, with her heart guiding her logic and almost always never her blade.)

“Ivan will kill you in the morning when he finds out.” Raimonds rolled his eyes, took a swig out of the bottle he was holding, knuckles white at the tightness of his grip. “And you’ll probably fall off the railing.”

He leaned forward. He’d been sitting on the balcony railing which overlooked St. Petersburg, peaceful under the gentle moonlight and the blanket of snow covering it, but Raimonds saw neither the city nor the stars dotting the sky. He was facing the inside of the palace, and he knew that Nikolai had been standing there in the semi-darkness for quite a while now.

“A few more precautions and I’ll begin thinking that you care.” A smirk played on his lips when he heard the other’s noise of indignation. He ignored the way his heart raced when Nikolai stepped out of the darkness. The moonlight made Nikolai’s hair shine, like starlight woven carefully by the gods into silken threads. In that moment—it was the alcohol, it was the vestige of his anger toward Viktor—Raimonds wanted Nikolai to indeed care.

But wanting was dangerous, especially when it was Raimonds who wanted. He wanted dangerously, fiercely, and everything he wanted he held tightly in his fists and kissed until they were both breathless and crushed them into pieces. He wanted as strongly as he fought. There was only black and white, two stark ends of a spectrum, and no space in which everything blended out and mildness was enough.

“I don’t care about you,” Nikolai said softly, too softly, it sounded like a prayer. He stopped just within Raimonds’ reach, so painfully near, he could pull Nikolai closer and let them tumble off the balcony.

They wouldn’t die, anyway.

“If you didn’t, then you could’ve ignored me instead. Nosy bitch.”

There it was. The anger began as a twitch in Nikolai’s jaw, then spread throughout his face like wildfire, and now he was openly scowling at Raimonds. This was better; anger was easier to face than something gravely akin to compassion.

“Fuck you, ungrateful son of a whore.”

Raimonds took another swig of his drink. The bottle was now empty. He threw it over his shoulder. He waited for a moment to hear it break, but it didn’t. Ivan would surely be livid when he finds out. Not only about the stolen bottle of the bitter drink, but also about Viktor.

Ivan disliked it when Raimonds hurt someone else. He wanted to be the only one doing the hurting.

There was something attractive about Nikolai he couldn’t place. Or maybe it was just the haze of his intoxication, painting everything in an interesting angle, but Raimonds could swear that he could see fragility in how Nikolai held himself, and there was strength, too. His fingers itched to reach out, watch Nikolai and his soft, beautiful voice break under his touch.

He watched Nikolai shift. The anger he was exuding was now turning into a mixture of discomfort and confusion. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” Nikolai rubbed at his arms, glancing around them, his brows furrowed together still.

Raimonds’ breath caught in his throat when he realized what exactly he wanted to do, then. He wanted to kiss Nikolai.

No, that was an understatement.

Raimonds wanted to press his lips against Nikolai’s and take, take everything what Nikolai had to give, he wanted to lace his long fingers against that hair of liquid starlight and pull, he wanted to hear Nikolai’s solemn voice to call his name out over and over again, Raimonds, _Auseklis._

And it scared him. The sounds of the night were gone, replaced by the loud pounding against his ears. It was electrifying, dizzying, petrifying—Raimonds had to jump off the railing and into the balcony before he fell.

Nikolai caught him by the arm. It felt like the sun kissing his skin after a long, dark winter, like inching a little too close to the fire; warm, energizing, and Raimonds thought that falling off a balcony was probably better than falling like _this._

“Are you alright?” There it was again, Nikolai speaking sentences as if he was saying the most fervent prayers.

Raimonds wanted and he wanted more and he was never satisfied.

He leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and captured Nikolai’s cold lips in a surprisingly soft kiss. There was none of the urgency and hunger Raimonds was used to, because for some reason it felt wrong to kiss Nikolai like that. He kept his eyes open, watched as the shock on the other’s face melted, as Nikolai’s eyes slowly closed.

There was no gray area, no uncertainty, supposedly, but when Nikolai reached up to touch his cheek Raimonds felt unsure of what he was doing.

He found himself pushing Nikolai away. He found himself wanting to pull him back again and apologize by kissing him even harder.

Something flashed in Nikolai’s eyes, something like hurt, something like disappointment.

“It was the vodka,” Raimonds murmured, and he pushed past him, back into the palace.

For the first time in his long life, he was beginning to feel uncertain. He wouldn’t be sneaking off into Viktor’s chambers in sometime. Not when every time he closed his eyes, the only thing he could see was the way Nikolai’s eyes fluttered closed and how soft his lips felt.

Raina would be very, very amused, once he told her about this night.

**Author's Note:**

> Set in Imperial Russia, but that isn't obvious LMFAO. I really have this good as heck headcanon wherein 2P!Latvia and 2P!Russia had something going on between them, but it was too complicated, too violent, and too messy to be called a proper relationship.


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